One Night in Hogsmeade
by xxDustNight88
Summary: When Sherlock believes that Moriarty may be hiding in a small wizarding town, he, along with Hermione and John, travel to Hogsmeade, but only for one night. Together, the three of them seek answers to this seemingly unsolvable case while at the same time discovering there may be more than meets the eye to their own fragile existence. *Companion Piece to Nights in 221B*


**Author's Note:** After suffering through the start of school, a horrible bout of writer's block, and then being stuck in my Marvel fic for a while, I have finally managed to write this beautiful companion piece for Nights in 221B! It fits in right after chapter eight and then will lead directly into chapter nine of that story. It can be read on its own or as a companion piece like it was intended. It was meant to be short, but somehow exploded into this 13k story. I really love how it turned out and I hope you do too. Johnlock is a pairing I've always wanted to try out and I think this was a good opening for that. I'm looking forward to your feedback!

As for Nights in 221B, the next chapter of that will be coming soon, but I am not entirely sure when. I have a few other things I need to work on before the start of NaNoWriMo, but plan on updating 221B at least once more before then. Happy reading!

HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks from the bottom of my heart to GaeilgeRua for beta reading! You're help is appreciated more than you'll ever know! xxDustNight

 **Disclaimer:** All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling, BBC, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

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 _One Night in Hogsmeade  
_ Rated: M _  
_Pairing: Hermione/Sherlock/John _  
_Summary: _When Sherlock believes that Moriarty may be hiding in a small wizarding town, he, along with Hermione and John, travel to Hogsmeade, but only for one night. Together, the three of them seek answers to this seemingly unsolvable case while at the same time discovering there may be more than meets the eye to their own fragile existence.  
_ Warnings/Triggers: Threesome - F/M/M, Anal, Fingering, Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Smut, Train Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Het and Slash

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 _One Night in Hogsmeade_

Watching as the scenery flew by in a blur of color, Hermione tried to figure out why they needed to travel to Hogsmeade so urgently. Sherlock had insisted they leave immediately, and then whisked her and John off to the train station. Upon their arrival, he'd demanded that she take them to Platform 9 ¾, so she did. It had taken some convincing of John to walk straight through a seemingly solid barrier, but in the end, he'd closed his eyes as Hermione gently pulled him through.

After that, it was merely a matter of paying a fee to take the Hogwarts Express to Hogsmeade when there really was no reason to do so. Luckily, Hermione was able to use her status as a war heroine to bribe the man at the ticket booth. Fifty-five minutes later, the conductor had arrived and they were boarding the crimson train and preparing for their trip to the tiny wizarding village she'd not seen in quite some time.

Currently, John was fast asleep, his head lolled backward onto the headrest as the train surged on through the countryside. Sherlock was reading, his eyes roving over the pages as if devouring the words. Hermione should be getting some rest she knew, but her mind wouldn't calm down. She kept playing the scene from earlier over and over in her mind, remembering the intensity of John's heated stare in the firelight.

She shouldn't be thinking of such things, not with Sherlock seated right next to her, but she couldn't help it. Desperately, Hermione wanted to know what had been going through the doctor's mind in the quiet moments before Sherlock had interrupted. What would have happened next if he hadn't appeared when he did? Would John have tried to kiss her? Would _she_ have kissed _him_? What did that mean about her relationship with Sherlock?

The lack of sleep and chaos in her mind was making her head hurt, so with a sigh, Hermione looked away from the window and watched Sherlock for a minute. The only indication that he knew he was being scrutinized was the sudden furrow of his brow. That made Hermione smile; she loved watching him at work and he knew it. They still had about half an hour to an hour before they would arrive in Hogsmeade, so Hermione decided to try and talk to Sherlock about a few things.

She'd already prepared them for what they would see and experience upon their arrival. Both men were intrigued by the idea of an entire village run by witches and wizards. Sherlock had accepted her information with a blank look on his face while John, on the other hand, had listened with rapt attention, eyes growing larger with each detail she elaborated on. Since then, though, the three of them had taken to doing their own thing.

Gently reaching out, Hermione placed her hand on Sherlock's forearm. He paused in his reading, eyes lifting to meet her stare. He must have read more into the look because he set aside his book and gave her his full attention.

"Why the sudden urge to come to Hogsmeade?" she asked quietly, not wanting to wake John from his nap.

"I think that there is a chance Moriarty could be hiding out in this town," Sherlock told her, his face devoid of emotion which she found odd.

"Shouldn't we have informed the police, or Harry and Draco at the very least?"

"No. If we'd done that then there is a chance he could get away. We have to be quick about this in case he plans on disappearing again." Sherlock made to pick up his book, but Hermione grabbed hold of his hand. He quirked an eyebrow at her as he waited for an explanation.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?" She didn't add that he was being cold with her, or that he wasn't sitting as close to her as he normally would. It made her worry that he was angry, and she couldn't blame him. If she'd walked in on him with someone in the position she and John had been, she'd be feeling a bit upset herself.

"I'll be fine once we find Moriarty and put him away for good." This time he did pick up his book, turning right to the page he'd left off on despite not having marked it at all.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, flinching at how loud she was suddenly being. A quick glance at John revealed that he was still fast asleep.

"Whatever for?" he inquired without taking his eyes off the pages before him.

Before she could explain what she meant, the train jolted and then slowed as it began to enter Hogsmeade station. Exhaling through her nose, Hermione deflated and waited for the train to come to a complete stop. Sherlock was already tucking his book into his bag and moving to stand. Without a glance in her direction, he shook John awake and then left the compartment in search of the exit.

"We there?" John mumbled, shaking the sleep from his head and then rubbing a hand over his features.

"Yeah," Hermione muttered, standing and grabbing her bag from the rack above the seats. "We're just pulling into the station. Sherlock's gone on ahead of us."

"He tends to do that, you know," he pointed out, reaching out to take the bag from her. There was a small smile playing at his lips and a sympathetic light in his eyes.

"He's never done this to me before, John. I think I hurt his feelings somehow." She led the way out of the compartment, moving on autopilot from the many years she traveled on the Hogwarts Express in her youth.

"He just feels threatened by me, and he probably doesn't know how to react. I'm his best friend and…" John trailed off as Hermione whirled around to face him.

"He still loves you, you know."

"I know," he smiled again, and Hermione waited with bated breath for him to say something more. He didn't, though, and she hated not knowing what the doctor was thinking.

"Are you two coming or not?" Sherlock shattered her thoughts, his head popping around the corner and giving them both a look that clearly indicated impatience. "I would like to have a good look round the town before darkness." He disappeared again, leaving them alone once more.

"You heard the good detective," John chirped, nudging her with his elbow as he ushered her toward the exit as well. "Let's get going and catch us a villain."

Hermione had to laugh; John certainly was the yin to Sherlock's yang. Where Sherlock was uptight and unwilling to crack a joke, John was able to relax in the seriousness of a moment and make you smile through your uncertainties. Following John off the train, Hermione inhaled the crisp air of her childhood. Memories flooded her senses as she watched Sherlock and John look around with interest.

Up on the hill sat Hogwarts, beautiful as it always was. She smiled, biting her lip as she looked to Sherlock. He was staring up at the school also, his eyes narrowed in interest. She knew he would want to explore the grounds at some point, but there would not be time for that sort of fun this trip. Stepping closer to him, she placed her hand warmly on his shoulder and slid onto the tips of her toes to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

"Not this time, Sherlock," she whispered playfully. "We'll come back again later, when Moriarty is gone and the world is safe."

Visibly relaxing, he turned to face her properly and gave her a pointed stare. "Do you promise?" he inquired, taking her chin in his nimble fingers and tipping her head back so that they were now gazing intently into each other's eyes.

"Absolutely." The answer ghosted out of her lips and then he was kissing her passionately, as if they didn't have a crazy maniac to catch, or that John Watson wasn't standing mere feet away watching them with a sly smirk on his warm face. Or that there wasn't unspoken uncertainties from the night before lingering on both their minds...

When the kiss ended, Hermione found herself more than a bit breathless. Sherlock was smirking at her, adjusting his scarf before turning away to speak to John. "What do you think?" he questioned, motioning towards the castle.

"I don't understand what's so fascinating about a giant pile of rubble, but whatever gets your motor going, I suppose." When Hermione giggled, he frowned. "What's so funny?"

"It's not a giant pile of rubble, John." She pointed at the castle on the hill. "It's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where I received my magical education."

"I don't understand…" John trailed off, turning to squint at the hill as if that might change what he was seeing.

Taking pity on the man, Hermione wandered over to where he was standing and touched the side of his head with gentle fingers. "It's shrouded in a cloaking charm, as well as a few Muggle repellant charms. I was wondering how they would affect the two of you."

"I can see it," Sherlock piped up, sounding almost smug. John shot him a glare which was returned with an exaggerated smile.

"Why am I not surprised," John muttered with irritation.

Hermione moved behind John, adding the fingers of her right hand to the other side of his head. "Close your eyes," she told him, her voice soft. She looked to Sherlock, his head bobbing once as soon as John's eyes had fluttered shut. Speaking quietly so only he would hear, she said, "Imagine a large, foreboding yet beautiful castle. Its pillars reaching toward the sky. A tower with owls fluttering about as they prepare to take flight or seek refuge." John relaxed further, his hands coming up to hold her hands in place as she continued to describe Hogwarts to him.

"The grounds leading up to the castle are strewn with large rocks and a pathway made of gravel. In the distance, just before the forest, you can see the Quidditch pitch, but we'll discuss that later. The castle, on the other hand, with its large oak doors invites you to visit, to enter and learn more of its secrets. Do you see it, John? Can you picture Hogwarts with its many floors and beautiful stone façade, aged and battered by battle?"

"Yes," John gasped, his body tingling with magic from Hermione's hands.

Hermione knew the second he opened his eyes, his body stepping forward and his hands leaving hers. He stumbled, blue eyes wide as they saw, for the first time, the magical castle of Hogwarts towering above the town of Hogsmeade. He turned, a look of astonishment on his face, to stare at Hermione. She merely grinned and shrugged her shoulders.

"But it was a pile of rubble..." He was flabbergasted, looking back and forth between the castle, Hermione, and then to Sherlock. "How did it do that?"

"Magic." Sherlock told him simply, his mysterious eyes warming as he watched John's excitement grow. "Come," he told his friend, "let us go and check into our hotel before searching for Moriarty's whereabouts."

"Sure… Sure, let's go," came John's breathy reply as he bent to pick up the bags he'd dropped a few minutes prior.

Hermione, still thrilled at having allowed John a glimpse into her magical world, led the way from the train station and further into the town of Hogsmeade. Behind them, the castle watched on, waiting for a time when they might return and wander the halls in search of mysteries unknown. Feeling oddly at home, Hermione ignored the feeling of being watched by the old stone castle as she walked under the gates depicting a hog and into the main Centre of the town. Suddenly, she was rather looking forward to their night here, a thrill of anticipation running down her spine.

. . . . . . . . .

Moving through the pub, Hermione found Sherlock and John sipping their mugs of butterbeer at a table in the corner. She slid into the booth next to Sherlock and placed a single key on the sticky surface. Both her companions looked at the key before John set down his mug and pointed toward it. When he met her gaze, she bit her lip, already knowing what he was going to ask before the words had even left his mouth.

"What's that?"

"A key," she answered coyly, stealing Sherlock's pint from him and taking a long swig of the sweet liquid.

"Yes, I can see that, but why is there only one?" John further inquired, now picking up the key to roll it around in his palm.

"Well," Hermione began, handing the pint back to Sherlock and ignoring his look of annoyance at having most of the beverage drank by her instead of himself. "There's a big Quidditch match going on up the school tomorrow afternoon which means they were a bit short on rooms."

"There's only one room."

"Right."

She sat silently, waiting for either of the men to say something further. Sherlock was the first to speak, draining the mug he held and setting it aside for the time being. "I am assuming by the hesitation in your voice that there is only one bed in this particular room."

"Yup." Hermione gave him a smile, eyebrows raised. "Madame Rosmerta apologized for their lack of space, but this is the last room available in all of Hogsmeade."

"Relax," Sherlock intoned raising a hand as John sputtered incoherently. "It matters not if we all share the room or not. If all goes well, then we will not spend our time sleeping. We will be capturing Moriarty. Let us not forget the original reason for our visit to this town."

Settling back down, John finished the contents of his own drink before glancing at Hermione. "He has a point, but it doesn't make it any less awkward. I've already walked in on the two of you once, I don't wish to do it a second time."

"Is _that_ what you're worried about?" Hermione asked, her voice raising ever so slightly and her cheeks reddening at the memory he brought to mind. "I'm sure Sherlock and I can keep our hands to ourselves for a single night."

"I'm surprised at you, John." Sherlock crossed his arms, a dark look in his eyes. "It's not like you to be so simple minded about matters such as this. You and I have shared a room before, with a single bed at that. I believe you'll recall our trip to Baskerville?"

"How can I forget? You drugged me." Now it was John's turn to hand out the dark looks.

"In the end, we both fell victim to the chemical weapon. That is hardly an argument you can use against me at the present moment." Pushing gently on Hermione's shoulder, he urged her to vacate the booth so that they could get a move on. "Come now; let us store our things away for the time being and get to work."

"I've already had our bags sent upstairs," Hermione informed them as she slid from the booth. "I'm ready if the two of you are. John?"

"Fine. Fine," grumbled John as he pocketed the key and joined the two as they made for the door of the Three Broomsticks. "I'm sorry, but I just don't want to feel like a third wheel over here."

"I hardly believe Hermione will allow you to feel as such," Sherlock quipped, holding the door open for the witch, and then for John as well as he scurried past. John shot him an odd look, but Sherlock merely gave him a slow smirk.

"Of course not," Hermione answered, none the wiser to whatever Sherlock had been implying. "Now, where should we look first? What are you thinking we'll find here?'

"At the very least, a new lead," Sherlock said as he paused just outside the pub. Turning to face her, he arched one eyebrow. "I am unfamiliar with this town, so I will have to rely on you to take me where you believe we will find the most pertinent information."

"That sounds like a very important task," she joked, looping her arm with his as they began to wander down the cobblestone road. "Do you think I'm up for that?"

Sherlock bristled, a frown appearing on his face. "This is not a joke, Ms. Granger. There is a madman on the loose, and he could very well be holed up somewhere in this magical little village!"

"Settle down, you," Hermione laughed as she swatted at his arm. "I'm only joshing with you. I know exactly where we should start."

"And where is that?" John questioned as he joined them, walking along on her other side.

"The Hog's Head. If anyone odd has been loitering around, someone there will know." A grim expression overcame her features then, remembering the past. "I used to know the owner before he passed on, but I'm sure the new one will allow me to ask a few questions of his partons."

"How can you be so sure?" Sherlock fixed her with an intense stare as they headed towards a dingy sort of pub, entirely different for the one they'd just left.

"Because if it wasn't for me, Marcus Flint would still be sitting in a cell in Azkaban. After the war ended, he was in a bit of a rough spot seeing as his family were avid Voldemort supporters." She sighed, pausing just before the door to the Hog's Head. "As it turns out, Marcus was anything but a supporter of the Dark Lord."

"No?" John asked, his head tilted to the side as he inspected the front of the pub. The windows were too dirty to be seen through properly, but you could tell there were people inside.

"No." Hermione smiled then, the gesture lighting up her face. "In fact, he was heavily involved with someone on our side. They were in love, desperately so. When this person came to me after the trials started, I knew I had to do whatever I could to get Marcus free."

"And now the two of them own this pub," Sherlock intoned, tucking his hands into his pockets, his gaze lingering on Hermione and then John before returning to Hermione.

"Yes, and they'll both be willing to lend a helping hand. Come on." She opened the door for them, allowing them to move past her into the dimly lit interior of the pub. Inside, there were very few patrons, but it was early in the day. Hermione knew from the past that the Hog's Head could be quite busy come evening.

She smiled as she spotted a familiar face sitting at the bar. It appeared he was working on some bookkeeping so she decided to sneak up on him. Sliding onto the stool next to her former housemate she chuckled. "I see you're still honing those keeper skills, Wood. Only this time, it's galleons instead of quaffles."

"Hermione!" Oliver Wood greeted her, throwing down his quill with a surprised look on his face. "It's so good to see you! What brings you to our neck of the woods?" He frowned and crossed his arms. "Wait, you're not here for the match tomorrow are you? I thought you hated Quidditch?"

"No," she said with a laugh, patting him on the arm. "I'm here on business actually. I was hoping you and Marcus might be able to help out me and my companions. We're looking for information regarding the possible whereabouts of the key suspect in the current killings." She gestured to Sherlock and John, who had joined her at the bar.

"That's some real nasty business, that," a gruff voice chimed in, abruptly turning their attention away from Oliver and to the far end of the bar. Marcus Flint was standing there holding a fresh keg of butterbeer.

"Marcus!" Hermione beamed, hopping off her stool and hurrying around the bar to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

She missed the dark looks both John and Sherlock sent the wizard's way, but Oliver didn't. He smiled a secret smile and closed the record book in front of him before moving to help his husband with the keg. Marcus threw him a grateful look before engulfing Hermione in a bear hug that made her squeak.

"It's good to see you again, 'Mione," he greeted as he released her from his embrace. "It makes me sad that it takes a case for you to pop 'round for a visit these days." He nodded to her guests, and asked, "Who are your friends?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing as she realized her lack of manners. "This is Dr. John Watson and this," she looped her arm through Sherlock's, "is my boyfriend, Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes. The three of us are helping Harry and Draco with the murder cases. And I do apologize for not coming by more often."

"It's nice to meet you," Marcus acknowledged the two men. "You aren't magical folk, are you?" He smirked and then quirked a dark eyebrow at Hermione.

"No, actually. We are not," Sherlock replied in a clipped voice, ignoring the way Hermione's grip tightened on his arm. He knew she was trying to warn him to be nice, but he ignored her. He cared not that the two men were obviously in love with one another-he could tell they shared a special sort of affection for his witch as well. "Have you seen any strange Muggles lurking about this town?"

"Wow," Oliver said with a chuckle. "He's strictly business, isn't he?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Hermione said, her lips forming a secretive smile.

"And he knows what a Muggle is?" Marcus chimed in, elbowing Hermione playfully. "Do we even want to know how these two learned about our world?"

"That's a rather long tale…" Hermione replied with a blush. "I'll come back some other time and we'll chat over a pint. Okay?"

"Fine, fine. Now, what is it we can help you with?" Marcus relented. "If it's strange Muggles you're looking for, you won't find them in town."

Oliver stepped forward and put an arm around his husband's shoulders. "Actually, I did overhear a customer talking about that old cave in the woods."

"What about the cave? That's where Sirius used to hide out when he'd come to visit Harry," Hermione mumbled, frown lines appearing on her forehead. John observed her quietly while Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the couple, clearly coming to his own conclusions.

"You will take us to this cave at once," he told Oliver, retying his scarf around his neck as he did so. Oliver merely raised his eyebrows as Marcus turned a laugh into a fake cough.

"Sherlock," Hermione scolded, grabbing hold of her lover's wrist as he turned to leave. "Oliver and Marcus have a business to run. I can take us to the cave since I've been there before."

"It holds bad memories for you," he pointed out, turning off his brain for a second to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She relaxed at his gesture.

"I'm fine. Honest," she explained. "Sirius has been gone a long time now, and tracking down Moriarty is far more important than whether or not a cave breaks my heart. Actually...working so close to the Veil should probably bother me more…" Trailing off, she lost herself for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking away her memories, Hermione smiled and shrugged. "Sorry about that. Should we go?"

"Fine," Sherlock agreed, scrutinizing her for any further signs of discomfort. "But if it upsets you, I am having John take you back to the room."

"Okay, fine." Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing on her lips. "It's a deal. Now can we go?"

"You three should come back here later for dinner. Marcus has a pot of his grandmother's beef stew cooking in the back." Oliver wagged his eyebrows suggestively and this time it was Marcus who rolled his eyes.

"That sounds lovely, Oliver. We'll pop back round after we finish our investigation of the cave and wherever else we end up." Hermione stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek before turning and doing the same to Marcus. "See you later!"

After Hermione, Sherlock, and John had left the pub, Oliver turned to Marcus and gave him a sly smile. "So… Those three? Bets on whether or not they end up shagging?"

"You're horrible, Ollie," Marcus chuckled, but he had a knowing glint in his dark eyes. "You're on. But two galleons says that Hermione allows both the army man _and_ tall dark and handsome into her knickers before their trip here is over."

"Yes!"

They clasped hands and then went back to their previous work.

. . . . . . . . . .

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh as she flopped onto the queen sized bed. "Mmmfrmm frmm mhmmm." Her words were muffled by the flowery quilt, and it caused John to laugh and Sherlock to scowl.

"You know that we have absolutely no idea what you're complaining about," Sherlock snapped in irritation, whipping off his scarf and tossing it onto the back of the chair. His coat followed suit, and then he moved to glare out the window into the darkness beyond. Their search of the cave and surrounding area had been for naught. Moriarty had clearly moved on well before they arrived in Hogsmeade, leaving behind nothing but a tin can of beans and a torn blanket.

"You don't need to be so rude, Sherlock," John said with a frown as he removed his jacket and sat down on the chair. "We're all disappointed, tired, and cold."

Hermione rolled over onto her back, rubbing the heels of her palms over her eyes. "I said, what a waste of time… And now we have even less to go off of than we did before." Groaning, she kicked off her boots and then pulled a pillow down to rest her head on top of. "I'm sorry there was nothing out there."

"It's not your fault," John tried to reassure her. "We knew it could be a long shot, but there's nothing you could have done to change it."

"I just feel like, this is my world… I should have been able to find him. I think I've been out of this line of work for too long." Closing her eyes, Hermione tried to reel in her tears, succeeding, but barely.

Sherlock sighed, his own eyes closing as his fingers came up to thread through his curls. "John," he intoned, turning around as his eyes blinked open. "Would you give us a few moments alone?"

"I-Uh… Sure. I'll go and take my shower." Nodding more to himself than Sherlock, John stood and moved to his duffle. He grabbed the handles and then disappeared into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

In the silence that followed, Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position and looked toward Sherlock. They stared at each other intently until the water sounded from the other side of the bathroom door. Only then did Sherlock move toward the bed where he stood at the foot, sliding both hands into his pockets.

"You are far too hard on yourself."

"I can't help it. I'm used to knowing everything, and with this case… I feel like I know nothing. It's _maddening_." It was a relief to admit that aloud, but it didn't make Hermione feel any better having done so. In fact, it made her feel worse.

"We are all doing our best. Moriarty is clever, far more clever than we all imagined." When Hermione opened her mouth to argue, Sherlock slid a hand out of his pocket and held it up, effectively silencing her. "Eventually, he will slip up, and that is when we will catch him."

"How many more innocent people will have to die, though? I don't want to think about all the lives he's already taken, let alone those he will ultimately take if we don't put an end to his murdering!"

Studying her for a moment, Sherlock said nothing. He simply watched as a single tear escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek before dripping off her chin and disappearing into her curls. An unfamiliar sort of tightness filled his chest, and he was suddenly acutely aware of wanting to pull Hermione into his arms and make all her hurt and anguish dissipate. It was immensely out of character for him, even considering his self sacrifice from years prior. Clearing his throat, Sherlock held out a single hand and waited for Hermione to place her much smaller one in his palm.

She gave him a look of hesitance, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she acquiesced. Gently, he tugged her upright, indicating that he wanted her to stand. When she'd planted both feet firmly on the floor, he released her hand to instead wrap her in an embrace. He felt her body relax, defalting so much that he had to tighten his grip to hold her upright. The shuddering breath she released was more than enough indication that she was stressing over far more than simply the case. Glancing at the bathroom door, he had a fairly good inclination as to what else was bothering his brilliant witch.

"Aside from the case," he began, his voice rumbling through her body. "What else is there that you would like to discuss? What is troubling you?"

"It's… It's nothing," Hermione mumbled into his chest, snuggling closer and crushing the soft fabric of his white Oxford shirt between her fingers. "Nothing that can't wait until we're home tomorrow." She closed her eyes, not wanting to bring up a topic that would, no doubt, put a huge damper on the remainder of their night in Hogsmeade.

"It is enough that you have been unable to think of little else since we boarded the Hogwarts Express early this morning." Leaning back slightly, Sherlock used the tip of his finger to tilt Hermione's face up so she would look him in the eye. "Now, tell me what is on your mind or I will be forced to deduce it on my own."

She gasped, playfully. "You wouldn't!" He laughed, the sound low and sultry as his thumb slipped upward to brush gently against her lower lip. The way he was smiling, his eyes crinkling just so, she knew he would. He'd deduce every last secret right out of her until there was nothing left between them but the air that they breathed. And he even knew how to take that away too, leaving her breathless and wanting him more than before.

"Try me."

"I'm worried that you're angry with me… That you saw John and me together last night and thought there was more to it than just two people talking in the darkness." She averted her gaze, ashamed because even to her own ears, it sounded like a farce. She'd felt the chemistry between her and the doctor, so she knew Sherlock had seen it too.

"I will admit that I was taken aback by what I saw, but it was not surprising," Sherlock explained, his eyes raking over her face as confusion clouded her eyes.

"You weren't surprised?"

"No," he said, clearing his throat. "I have sensed for some time that John has been interested in you and while I find that I am jealous of his sudden affection for you, I am unsurprised."

"Jealous!" Hermione exclaimed, hand coming to rest at the base of her throat. "Why ever would you be jealous? You know I'm in love with you and that-" She stopped suddenly, the realization dawning that Sherlock wasn't worried that she may be attracted to John… He was upset that John had feelings for _her_ instead. "Oh, Sherlock…"

"Do not pity me," he said hotly, taking a step away from Hermione and narrowing his eyes. When she reached out to stop his retreat, he allowed it, his eyes glancing to where her small hand wrapped around his wrist. "I do not need that on top of the confusion I already feel over the situation."

"I don't feel pity for you, just understanding, is all." Her thumb brushed gently over the sensitive skin of his wrist, and she smiled up at him as he finally met her gaze. "You and John have a history. You love him…and I'm fairly certain he's still in love with you too."

"You have no way of knowing that, Hermione."

"You of all people should realize how he feels! Nothing gets past the great Sherlock Holmes." She released her grip to brush the curls from his forehead. She spoke softly to him, not wanting him to be upset any longer.

"Basic human emotions are difficult for me to comprehend. I am sure you have realized this by now." He relaxed at her touch, her soothing words clearly having the right effect on him. While he still felt uncertain about their relationship, she was not wrong. John probably did love him, and he felt the same way. The only complication in the matter was Hermione and what role she played.

"You're much better than what I hear you used to be." She shrugged when he gave her a glare, for there was no true malice in his eyes at her remark. "Look, we're here alone, just the three of us with no other distractions. What if we talked out our issues…? We need to find out how exactly we all feel about one another; otherwise, it's just going to rip us apart."

"Normally, Ms. Granger," Sherlock pressed playfully, "A woman does not try and push her lover towards another man. "

"I want you to be happy, Sherlock." She stepped closer to him, closing the distance he'd tried to place between the two of them. "Why can't a person have both? Have you ever thought about that? Don't you want to know what true happiness feels like?"

"I think that I have experienced true happiness...with you." He told her, his breath ghosting out over her lips. "I'm loathe to admit that I am happier than I have been in more recent years." He stepped closer to her, tentatively bringing his hand up to examine the contours of her face with his fingertips.

"You love John and the struggle of not knowing what could have been is slowly killing you." When he opened his mouth to deny her accusation, she held up a hand. "Don't lie, Sherlock. I know it's true. I can see it in your eyes each and every time that you look at him."

Dropping his hand from her face, Sherlock backed away. "I care for you," he implored, as if this would solve all of their problems. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he took yet another step away from Hermione, that distance returning full force. "You love me, I can read it in everything about you. How you look at me, touch me, treat me. Yet there is something else there. You are curious about John. You find him intriguing, a _mystery_."

"I won't deny that accusation, not entirely."

In two brisk steps, Sherlock was suddenly back in front of Hermione, eyes roving over her body quickly as he picked her apart, piece by piece. He hummed low in his throat as he came to some sort of conclusion and then his hand was sliding up the thin column of her throat, tipping her head to the side so that he could bring his lips close to the sensitive skin of her ear.

"You think about the two of you together, what it would be like. You want to know what I would think if that were to happen. What I would _do_." He smiled as she gasped, her body trembling under his touch. Inspired by her reaction, Sherlock pressed his body firmly against hers so that she was flush against his larger frame.

With his other hand, he trailed his fingers over the swell of her breasts, enjoying the way she began to pant with want. He wasn't finished with his deduction yet. Oh no. There was one more bit of information he'd discerned from watching Hermione and John interact as of lately. As his fingers slid lower, finally reaching the waistline of her jeans, he deftly undid the button and zip as he delivered the last line. "But most importantly, you _want_ me to see you with John, and you want to watch me with him as well. The three of us entwined together, writhing as one. Don't you?"

"Oh Merlin, yes!" Hermione cried out as he thrust two fingers into her dripping core. Beginning to fuck her with his fingers, Sherlock captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Hermione's hands came up to tangle in his dark curls, her hips mimicking his ministrations.

"Jesus!" John yelped in exasperation. "I knew you two couldn't keep your hands off one another. I'll go down to the bar. Get a night cap and let you two finish whatever it is you started-"

"John," Sherlock said firmly, effectively cutting off whatever else the doctor planned on saying. He didn't bother looking in John's direction, knowing the doctor's eyes were greedily watching what he was doing to Hermione. "Come over here." As he said this, Hermione moaned causing Sherlock to smirk.

John faltered, not exactly knowing what he was being asked to do. "Sherlock?" he questioned, his voice wavering ever so slightly with uncertainty and a tinge of want. He swallowed roughly, dropping his towel he'd been using to dry his hair at his feet. He reached for the t-shirt he'd left sitting on the bed, but Sherlock's voice broke through his fuzzy thoughts.

"Leave it. Come here, John. Come over here and help me take care of Hermione's needs." This time Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, his mysterious eyes dark with arousal. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he took in the sight of John standing by the foot of the bed wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans. His chest was still damp from his shower, his hair in disarray. "I could use another hand."

As if in a trance, John padded across the floor, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's. When he reached the two of them, he paused and waited for further instructions. His eyes flickered closed as Sherlock's free hand came up to tentatively rest upon his pale cheek. He let out a breathy gasp, surprised by Sherlock's show of affection. He heard Hermione's soft keening and felt his cock begin to stir, sending him further into confusion. He opened his mouth and eyes to question what was happening but was taken entirely by surprise.

Sherlock's mouth was on his, the consulting detective's lips moving over his with bruising force. He shuddered, the kiss everything he'd ever imagined and more. How long had he yearned to feel Sherlock's lips upon his? To taste the unknown. It was surreal, especially since he was still acutely aware that Sherlock was fucking Hermione with his fingers, mimicking what he was doing with his tongue. When at last Sherlock pulled away, they were both panting and John was grinning obscenely.

"I'm not questioning your motives here, mate, but what the hell is going on?" His eyes briefly glanced toward Hermione before moving back to Sherlock. She was a writhing mess, head lolled backward as she enjoyed Sherlock's relentless rhythm.

"I see the way you look at her-at _us_. I have known there was something between you and I for quite sometime and tonight, Hermione is willing to allow us to join as one. The three of us, living out our deepest, darkest desires."

"That's-You can't be serious," John sputtered, stumbling backward a step.

Coming to her senses, Hermione gently stopped Sherlock's hand, feeling slightly disappointed as he removed it from her jeans. "John, hear us out. We have tonight, and only tonight, alone together before we return to London and the reality that Moriarty is still out there. Please, don't over think what we're asking of you."

"What happens when it's over?" John was looking to her now for an answer, wanting to hear it from her more than he did Sherlock. He knew she would be more forthcoming with information as Sherlock always held back from saying what he truly felt.

"We go back to normal. You with Mary, and Sherlock and me… This is it, our one and only shot at being together." As she finished explaining, Hermione stepped forward and stood so she was beside both Sherlock and John. She slid her hands into theirs, linking the three of them together.

John stared at their conjoined hands, a trickle of anticipation running down his spine. "So it wasn't just me then. You felt something between us last night?"

She nodded, averting her eyes, ashamed despite knowing it was alright to feel such a way. "I did, and Sherlock understands. He...he wants this just as much as I do."

"Is she telling the truth, Sherlock?"

"She is," he replied, taking a page out of Hermione's book and reaching for John's hand.

"I don't want to cause friction between the two of you," John rushed to say. "I didn't mean for anything like this to happen."

"We know," Hermione said, gently squeezing his hand. "I am in love with Sherlock, and he cares for me too. But...he is also in love with _you_."

Silence overtook the room then; Hermione's words settling around them like a heavy blanket. No one wanted to speak first, afraid to ruin the moment. A choice needed to be made. Sherlock had already declared his intentions, kissing John and bringing him into the fold. Hermione was willing to help bridge the gap between the two of them, a willing outlet so that they could seek emotional healing. Essentially, it was all up to John now. He had to be the one to make the next move.

The answer came quickly in the form of a heated kiss. One second John was glancing between the two of them, and the next he was wrapping himself so thoroughly around Sherlock that the taller man didn't know how to react. Hermione was an eager lover, but she'd never thrown herself at him before. The passion was evident as the two kissed, their longtime unrequited love blossoming between them.

Hermione could do nothing but watch on, her arousal flaring once more as the two men eagerly kissed one another. She shimmied out of her jeans, kicking them to the side before pulling her jumper over her head. Standing there in nothing but her bra and knickers, she waited for their momentum to change, indicating it was time to move forward with their adventure. As John's lips began to trail heated kisses down Sherlock's jaw, she took the opportunity to introduce herself to the mix.

One of her trembling hands trailed across John's damp chest, fingernails scraping gently at his nipples. She was rewarded with a throaty groan from the man, and an approving smirk from Sherlock. Taking this as a sign to continue, she moved her hand lower until she felt the waistline of John's jeans. She made quick work of the button and zipper, enjoying when Sherlock's hands joined hers in helping slide them over his hips. Smiling to herself, she was glad to realize that he'd forgone wearing anything underneath, allowing his hardened cock to drop forward now that it was free from its confines.

Wetting her lips, Hermione fell to her knees and wrapped her hand around the base of the doctor's cock. His heady scent was prominent after his shower, causing her knickers to dampen even further. Sneaking a quick peek upwards, she found John hurriedly unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and decided that it was time to surprise them both. Her tongue came out to taste the tip of John's cock, tracing the head twice before she took him into her mouth. He was much thicker than Sherlock, but she found it was not an issue as she began to slowly fuck him with her mouth.

John didn't seem to mind, one hand coming down to tangle in her curls as her mouth slid up and down his shaft. Above her, she could hear Sherlock's panted gasps of pleasure, enjoying whatever John was doing with his tongue. She had every intention of thoroughly enjoying this night too, but above all, this was more about Sherlock and John having the chance to discover what they'd never had the opportunity to experience. Humming, Hermione guided her hand away from the base of his cock towards his tight little hole.

Without lubrication, she wouldn't try anything further than the featherlight touches she began with. It was enough, however, John's throaty moan echoing against the base of Sherlock's throat as his hips bucked of their own accord. She smiled around his cock, adding the tiniest bit of pressure as she began to prepare him for what was to come. As she continued, his grip on her hair tightened almost painfully. It was with minimal relief that Sherlock finally reached down to untangle his hand and ease her to a stop.

"As beautiful as you look with your mouth full of John's glorious cock, I would much prefer if he lasted long enough for us to make it to the bed."

Dazedly, Hermione glanced up at John and realized his face was flushed. Sherlock was in a state of disarray, his shirt untucked from his trousers and half unbuttoned. Despite being utterly distracted, John had been busy while she'd been sucking him off. Deciding that Sherlock had entirely too much clothing on, she rotated on her knees and began to unfasten his trousers. He sighed contentedly as she helped shimmy the tight trousers over his firm bottom and then down his legs. She couldn't wait to have him naked so she could see him next to John, both of them spread out on the bed just for her. And each other.

She clenched her thighs together as a wave of lust pulsed through her core at the mere thought of being with both John and Sherlock at the same time. She was more than ready to experience her very first threesome, especially as she would be with Sherlock whom she trusted explicitly. As she removed his shoes, she also removed his fancy trousers and then slid her hands back up his long, pale legs while meeting his eyes. Biting her lip, she curled her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and removed those as well, leaving Sherlock standing there in nothing but his white Oxford shirt.

His long cock sprang forward, eager to join the party after being confined for the past twenty minutes. John took care of the the remaining button on the Oxford shirt, slipping it off his shoulders with well practiced hands. When Sherlock was finally naked, both Hermione and John could do nothing back stare in wonder, his body bared for them and them alone. Hermione never grew tired of seeing his beautiful body and this was John's first time seeing the man who held his heart entirely nude. With bated breath, Hermione placed a single hand on John's thigh, giving him permission to do what he so desperately wanted to do.

John's eyes raked over Sherlock's body before he reached out and placed his hand right over his heart. He could feel the organ hammering underneath his palm, mimicking the same rhythm that John's own heart was currently pumping. In the next instant, the two men locked eyes and a sizzle of desire shot through the both of them. Swallowing heavily, John began to trail his hand downward, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's. When at long last, his hand wrapped around Sherlock's sex, the only sound heard was a single gasp that didn't come from either of the men.

It had come from Hermione, the sight of John holding her lover so delicately in his hand was almost too much to bear. She stood, slowly, trying not to disrupt this quiet moment between the two. This was a new adventure for them, and she was honored to have a front row seat as they unfolded the mystery of their love. When she felt they'd had enough time to get used to the presence of one another in this nature, she reached out and placed her hand overtop John's, aiding him as they began to gently stroke Sherlock. Her knickers flooded anew as her lover began to moan, his hips rocking back and forth to the rhythm they'd created. After a few minutes of this, Hermione released her hold and stepped back. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. While the two were distracted, she removed her knickers as well and then made her way toward the bed.

Crawling into the center, she waited patiently for Sherlock and John to join her. In the meantime, she watched as John continued to touch Sherlock, learning what he liked. Her lover, spurred on by his lust, reached out and pulled the doctor in for a kiss, their tongues sliding into one another's mouths to savour the taste of one other. Relaxing against the pillows, Hermione cupped her breast with one hand as the other slipped between her thighs. She was dripping, her folds slick with her arousal. With a whimper, she traced one finger around her swollen clit, effectively drawing Sherlock's attention.

His eyes snapped open, focusing on her as she continued to pleasure herself on the bed. Sensing his distraction, John's eyes fluttered open too, his mouth separating from their kiss so that he could see what was happening across the room. Hermione watched as they observed her, their breathing becoming more rapid as she slipped one and then two fingers into her heated core. Removing the hand that was wrapped around his cock, Sherlock guided John to the bed so that they could join Hermione's fun. Together, they crawled up the bed, each taking a side for their own. Nodding to indicate John should follow his lead, Sherlock dipped his head down so that he could capture one of her nipples in his mouth.

Picking up her pace, Hermione moaned heartily as John's mouth found her other nipple. Then, the two men were suckling her, tugging and licking her breasts as she continued to pleasure herself. She was close, the overabundance of stimulation more than she'd experienced ever before in her life. Hands roamed her body, massaging and trailing over her flushed skin as she writhed between the two men. Lost in the moment, Hermione had no indication that her orgasm was cresting until it hit her full force. She cried out with pleasure, loving the way Sherlock and John breathed words of encouragement into her ears as she lost herself entirely.

When she came down from the high, John was moving lower on her body. His mouth left lingering kisses wherever he paused, causing goosebumps to rise on her flesh. When he neared his prize, he brushed his thumbs across her hip bones as he inhaled the scent of her arousal. Then, tantalizingly slow, he licked up her parted slit, the tip of his tongue prodding at her swollen clit. Her hips jutted off the bed as a throaty cry escaped her lips. Encouraged by this reaction, he held tighter to her hips as his tongue circled the sensitive nub and then dipped into her core.

"God yes, John," Sherlock growled, his hand reaching out to cup the back of his head. "Taste her. Make her cum with your tongue."

"Sherlock!" Hermione cried out as her hips jerked upward. His voice was doing things to her that no one had ever done before. And as John continued lapping at her folds, she turned her head so that he could kiss her.

Knowing exactly what she wanted, Sherlock captured her lips in a searing kiss, stealing the breath right out of her. His tongue snaked into her mouth, seeking out the flavor of John from earlier. One of his hands continued to caress her supple body while the other threaded through her curls, tugging her head closer. He groaned as one of John's hands found his straining member, pumping him while he fucked Hermione with his tongue. Gasping, he had to retreat from the luxuriousness of Hermione's kisses as his body was overwhelmed. Hermione, obviously understanding his conflict, began to whisper reassuringly into his ear.

"Yes, my love. Open up your heart...your soul…" Her words were occasionally interrupted by soft whimpers, John's continued efforts drawing her attention back toward her oncoming orgasm. "I want you to enjoy this, Sherlock. You deserve to be loved...by me...and John…"

"Hermione," he managed to choke out, his back arching as John's thumb brushed over the tip of his cock. "John!" His hips rolled and his hand quickly grabbed hold of John's wrist, stopping his movements.

Confused, John glanced up from between Hermione's thighs, his lips and chin glistening with the evidence of her arousal. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" He was panting, obviously lacking proper breathing. Licking his lips, he waited for an answer, worry creasing his forehead.

"Yes," Sherlock hissed out between clenched teeth. "But I don't want it to end this way. I want you inside of her, John. I need to see you inside of her."

Understanding lit John's blue eyes and then he was crawling up Hermione's body and taking her face into his hands. He kissed her tenderly, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She must have enjoyed it because she undulated against his body, her tongue sliding against him with a fervour he'd not expected. As her thighs parted further, wordlessly inviting him to take her, John's gaze flickered toward Sherlock. The detective was watching the two of them through heavily lidded eyes, his hand loosely sliding up and down his own shaft as he mastubated to the sight of them together.

"Fuck," John stuttered as Hermione pulled away for air. This was all too much, Sherlock naked and pleasuring himself while he fucked his girlfriend. Oh, but he was all in, eagerly taking hold of his thick cock and sliding into Hermione's perfectly slick cunt. She was the one who began moving then, his mind going blank at the feel of her around him. It didn't take but a second for his brain to come back online, and then he was pounding into her.

He fucked her so hard that the headboard began to bang against the wall, but he didn't care. Hell, he didn't care if they heard them all the way up at that castle where Hermione had learned her magic. Her cries of pleasure were loud, but thankfully Sherlock took it upon himself to quiet her down by claiming her mouth once more. As his organsm became evident, the coiling desire in his lower belly beginning to unwind, John used one hand to rub frantically at her clit. It was exactly what she needed to send her over the edge for a second time that night.

The sounds of her muffled scream, the sight of Sherlock squeezing his cock, and the feel of his cock inside Hermione's clenching core was enough to send him flying. He came hard, harder than he'd ever done before and filled Hermione entirely. He didn't stop moving until he knew she was finished, and only then did he slide from her body to curl up next to her on the bed. "Sweet Jesus," he muttered, running a hand down his sweat covered face as he tried to regain his breath. "That was…"

"Earth shattering," Hermione supplied, rubbing one hand down her belly as her body continued to tingle. She could hardly breathe, hardly move, she was so satisfied. She turned her head and gave John a lovely smile, thankful when he returned the gesture. "Thank you."

"Of course," he said on an exhale before his eyes flickered over to look at Sherlock. The man was still completely hard, his hand holding himself loosely. "It's time for you to join in the fun, Sherlock."

"I've enjoyed this entire encounter thus far," Sherlock told them, releasing himself to slide closer to his two companions. He bent over and, in turn, gave both of them a lingering kiss that left their lips tingling.

"That's not what he meant, love," Hermione whispered as she placed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. "Here, let me help you." She waved her hand and a small bottle of lubricant flew from her bag in the corner of the room and landed in her palm. She then handed it to Sherlock so that he could do whatever he wished. "I've had my fill for the moment, but now it's your turn."

Realizing what she was referring to, Sherlock uncapped the bottle and coated his hand in the slickness. He then wrapped his hand around his shaft and rubbed himself until he was entirely covered. With his other hand, he reached out and took hold of John's hand, intertwining their fingers. John sat up as Sherlock tugged him towards himself, both grinning nervously at one another. Clearing his throat, Sherlock tried to come up with the right words to say…

"John," he started and then blinked nervously. "I'm afraid that I've experimented, I've never done _this_ before, but I want desperately to have you as mine." He was trembling, his revelation causing the three of them to settle into thoughtful silence. His glanced down to their intertwined hands, marveling at the way they fit together so perfectly. In the back of his mind, he also recalled how he and Hermione fit together in just the same way. Was it possible to have two soulmates in a single lifetime? He frowned, his thumb brushing over the sensitive part of John's wrist as he contemplated the preposterousness of such an inquiry.

Realizing Sherlock's reluctance and inexperience for what it was, John decided to take charge, bringing their intertwined hands up to his mouth. He kissed Sherlock's knuckles one by one, his eyes on the man he'd somehow fallen in love with. Beside them, he could hear Hermione's quiet exhale of happiness, their loving display making her heart swell with affection for the two of them. Untangling their hands, he sighed heavily and reached out to pat Sherlock's knee. It was time to take this relationship to the next level, a step that was a long time coming in his opinion.

"I want to watch you come undone, Sherlock… Feel you shudder with your release. It's something that I have yearned for all these years." He paused, his hand grazing across the curve of Hermione's side, sliding down until he wrapped his hand firmly around Sherlock's slick arousal where it rested by her thigh. "And tonight…. Tonight, Hermione is willingly allowing me into your sacred bed and I will forever be grateful for that. So please, let me be the one to take you because if we have only this one night in Hogsmeade, I need it to be seared into my mind forever."

Sherlock swallowed, the taste of Hermione still lingering on his tongue. He'd never expected John to request such a thing, but here they were. He glanced at Hermione, her eyes warm and heavily lidded after her orgasm. She was resplendent with beauty, her mere existence more than he was worthy of having. Yet, she had chosen him, and John was right. Tonight was more about the two of them than it was about all three of them. After tonight, they would return to London and all this would fade away into nothingness as they resumed the search for Moriarty and John returned to Mary and Rosie.

His heart clenched at the thought, the fragility of love stinging him with regrets and what ifs. There was nothing to be done about such things though, so Sherlock tabled his pride and sense of control, if only for tonight. Meeting John's blue eyes, he nodded once, submitting himself to the man he'd loved all these years. Tonight he would belong to John, mind, body, and soul. He would give John the gift of his body so that come the break of dawn when they would be forced to get back on that train, there would be no lingering regrets.

Reaching out, Sherlock cupped John's cheek. "I am yours, John. I have always been yours. Please, take me. I-I love you…" He stumbled a bit over the words, but he'd managed to say them aloud after all this time. It was like a dam burst in his chest, an outpouring of emotion engulfing him at the same time it washed him free of his past mistakes.

John's face softened, his eyes misting over as he placed his hand overtops Sherlock's. "And I love you, Sherlock." Pulling Sherlock's hand form his face, he kissed the palm and then shifted, rolling the two of them so that he was now the one on top. "Relax," he instructed the tall man when he noticed he was trembling. "I will take care of you tonight."

He turned to Hermione, who was watching them with interest. Almost shyly, she handed him the bottle of lubricant that Sherlock had dropped moments before. "What can I do to make this easier for the both of you. Should I leave?"

"No," John whispered, grabbing for her wrist and holding on. "I want you here with us, and I am sure he feels the same. You are not coming between us, so don't think that for a single minute. You, love, have brought us together, and I, for one, will never forget this kindness." When he was certain she wasn't going to flee, he released his grip and returned his attentions to Sherlock.

"Alright," she answered, her voice barely loud enough for them all to hear. She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on John's lips, and then leaned over and did the same to Sherlock. As she pulled away, she used the tip of her finger to ease the line from his forehead. "I love you too, you know. Relax… Let John love you."

"I-"

"Not tonight. We'll have our special moment when I know you're truly ready to confess your feelings to me. Don't spoil this with words...focus on your feelings." His hand brushed the curls out of her face and she sighed happily knowing he understood the deeper meaning of what she was saying.

Sherlock gasped as the tip of John's finger found his entrance, applying pressure to ease its way inside. It took a few minutes, but eventually, he was able to penetrate him. Thankful for the distraction, he eagerly kissed Hermione as she bent over and slid her tongue inside his mouth. Her hands trailed over his chest, tweaking his nipples and writing love letters with her nails. It was overwhelming, the intense feelings he was experiencing. When he suddenly felt John add another finger at the same time he rubbed their cocks together, Sherlock groaned into Hermione's mouth, the pleasure making stars explode behind his closed eyelids.

"That's it, Sherlock," John managed to say between his own moans. "Let me loosen you up just a bit more." He was surprised by how easily Sherlock had opened up for him, and even more so when he was able to add a third finger. It made him wonder if the detective had ever pleasured himself in this manner, and he found the thought completely erotic. "You're so tight, but ready...definitely ready... Do you think you can handle me now?"

Hermione moved to trailing kisses down his jaw, lingering just below his chin. "Yes," he gasped out as John scissored his fingers inside of him. It had been quite some time since he'd done any anal play, but his body remembered exactly what he liked. "Take me, John. I need you. _Now_." He was panting, his cock straining with the need for release.

With wide eyes, he and Hermione watched as John removed his fingers. Before he could reach for the lube, Hermione beat him to it, coating her hand and taking hold of John's cock. She coated him with a few graceful strokes, her eyes bright with a renewed lust. It appeared she was looking forward to this just as much as they were. When she was finished, she helped guide John to Sherlock's entrance before resuming her spot near her lover's head. Her hands stroked through his dark curls as John began to slide into him.

At first, it was a lot of pressure, but once the head had slipped past, Sherlock relaxed. He reached up to thread his fingers through Hermione's curls, tugging her down for a heated kiss. He needed the distraction her supple lips provided, and provide they did. By the time their kiss came to an abrupt end, John was fully inside of him, stretching him deliciously and panting from want. Sherlock met his eyes and felt a sizzle of desire race down his spine. This. This is what love felt like. Looking at someone and knowing that even if the world ended, all would be well because they were there with you. Guiltily, he remembered Hermione's presence, but she'd told him not to worry about her.

All rational thought was taken from him as John began to move, his hips sliding out slowly and then pushing back inward. Sherlock's head rolled back, thankful for the pillow there. "Jesus, John. You feel-Unnnnggg!" Words escaped him as John thrust repeatedly, driving into him carefully but with enough force to leave him seeing stars.

"Yessss," John hissed, one hand holding him steady at Sherlock's hip. With a spark of clarity, he nodded at Hermione. "Come here, 'Mione. Straddle his hips facing me. Take him inside of you. I want you to be a part of this-" He paused both his talking and movement as he tried not to lose control. When he had himself composed once more, he carried on talking as Hermione slid into place. "Hold tight to my shoulders; I'll watch over your back."

Eagerly, Hermione held Sherlock's cock in her hand before sliding down onto him. Her thighs trembled and her pussy pulsed as he filled her completely. The added friction from John fucking his arse helped stimulate her clit and suddenly, Hermione wondered why they'd never done this before. The three of them set a rhythm, all working towards a united goal. She wanted Sherlock to come first, knowing he had yet to orgasm tonight. John obviously wasn't going to last much longer despite this being his second go around, so she got to work.

She rocked her hips up and down, tightening her walls as she rode Sherlock into oblivion. Her head was thrown back, curls cascading over her shoulders which allowed John a clear view. Sherlock held tight to her hips, raising her as she steadily fell in sync with John's thrusts. It was an experience she would never forget, the feel of her two lovers coming together for the first time. She'd helped orchestrate this encounter, and like John had reflected earlier, it would forever be a memory to keep. As Sherlock's hips began to hasten their pace, she knew he was nearing the end of the line. She held John's shoulders more firmly, afraid to be thrown off in his moment of climax.

She had nothing to worry about, however, for as Sherlock came, he held her still as he pumped into her frantically. His groan of ecstasy reverberated around the room, interrupting both her and John's panting. She felt him pulsing inside her core, adding his cum to what still lingered of John's. She was absolutely dripping, but not quite there yet. John somehow managed to hang on for a few more thrusts until, finally, he sagged in her arms, his body slowing as he came inside of Sherlock's arse. The imagery spurred her on, so Hermione quickly reached down to flick her fingers against her engorged clit.

She was just getting into a rhythm, when she was pulled backward and then rolled to the side. Startled by the unexpected change in position, she cried out but it was stifled by Sherlock's tongue gliding into her mouth. His hands replaced hers, and then John's joined his as well. The feel of both their fingers filling her made her body shudder and then she was writhing, losing control for the third time that night. When it was over, Sherlock retreated, his lips leaving featherlight kisses along her jaw until he settled next to her. John took the other side, his body wrapping around her so that he could also reach Sherlock.

They lay there in silence for a very long time, regaining their breathing and calming as their bodies settled together. Hermione felt sleep looming, but didn't want the night to end. Having the distinct feeling that Sherlock and John felt the same way, she reached out with both hands and waited for them to take hold. They did without a word, their fingers intertwining as their bodies had been previously. She sighed in contentment, waiting for someone to be the first to speak.

It was Sherlock, surprisingly, his words breathed against the crook of her neck as he inched closer to her warmth. "Words cannot describe the way I am feeling in this moment."

John hummed, the sound vibrating against her shoulder where his head lay. "I find that I have to agree with you." His nuzzled against Hermione, a reluctant yawn escaping him. "I wish this night never had to end."

"I will never forget this, though," Hermione whispered as she willed the room into darkness. "You two have certainly made this night one to remember." Both men chuckled at that and she squeezed their hands in response, enjoying the feeling of protection they provided.

"We are the ones that should be thanking you," Sherlock admitted, his voice husky from residual arousal and exhaustion.

"Yes. Thank you for this..."

"Hush, you two." She playfully scolded as her eyes fluttered closed. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we have to return to reality, but for now, I just want to lay here in utter bliss with the both of you as we fall asleep." No more was said as the three of them drifted off into peaceful slumber.

. . . . . . . . . .

Hermione woke slowly, John's quiet snoring finally stirring her from the dreamworld. Sherlock's chin was tucked into the crook of her neck, his breaths tickling her ever so slightly. It was a wonder she'd managed to sleep at all with the amount of heat their three bodies were creating. As carefully as possible, Hermione slid down the bed, until she'd escaped the cocoon their bodies had formed around her in the night. Grabbing for her scattered clothes, she turned and observed her lovers, still fast asleep on the bed.

The dawn was barely breaking, the room still shrouded in near darkness. Clutching her clothes to her chest, Hermione appreciated the view before her. Sherlock and John were reaching toward one another, even in sleep. She wondered if now that she'd vacated the space between them if they would find their way into one another's arms… She hoped that they would, she decided with a small smile gracing her swollen lips. These last few hours would probably be the end of their relationship, for now at least.

Dressing quickly and quietly, Hermione prepared to head downstairs in search of coffee and breakfast. She also wanted to finalise their arrangements with the Hogwarts Express conductor. After finding nothing about Moriarty in Hogsmeade, they needed to return to London and see if they couldn't pick up the trail there. Putting her shoes back on her feet, Hermione then headed to the door, tossing one last look over her shoulder as she did so at the sleeping men. This was a tipping point of some sort, she realized, and this night would always be questioned with whatever happened next.

Slipping from the room, Hermione hoped that even if she and Sherlock didn't work out in the end, that he would at least have John to rely on for emotional support. He needed that, and if something were to ever happen to the two of them, she wasn't sure Sherlock could handle that. Not now. Not after last night. He needed John or things would surely fall apart. As the door clicked silently into place behind her, Sherlock snuggled closer to John, who wrapped him in his arms. Their lips found one another, and with soft sighs and lingering touches, Sherlock and John made love for the second and last time.

. . . . . . . . .

Later that morning, the three stood waiting at the trainstation as the conductor prepare the Hogwarts Express for the return trip to London. John was again gazing up at Hogwarts in wonder, his eyes taking in as much as he could before they had to leave this strange and magical place. His heart ached slightly knowing that he would probably never return Hogsmeade again. Sherlock, on the other hand, was standing with both hands in his pockets watching as Hermione nervously smoked a cigarette. He'd been oddly quiet again since she'd returned from finding them breakfast.

She liked to think it had more to do with the case and less with the fact that there might be something wrong. He seemed anxious to return to London, more so than she was. Stubbing out her cigarette on the bottom of her shoe, she tossed it aside and inserted herself under his arm. He hummed but other than that, made no comment. Deciding to be brave like the founder of her house, she asked, "Are you alright, Sherlock? You haven't said much this morning."

"I am fine," he lied, not meeting her eyes. Instead, he let his gaze wander to John who was now discreetly trying to take pictures of the castle but failing miserably. The intense magic surrounding the area would prevent him from doing such things, and Sherlock found this greatly amusing despite his morose feeling. "I am merely trying to discern what we should do upon our return home."

"We'll find him…" Hermione said on instinct, although she barely believed her own words at this point. Sherlock hummed again in response causing her to sigh. They were obviously thinking along the same lines, and it was frustrating.

The train whistled, indicating it was time for them to board. Shaking his head in defeat, John pocketed his phone and joined them by the car they would be sitting in for the ride. "Shall we get on then?" He asked, his tone much more relaxed and cheerful than his companions seemed to be. When both nodded, he picked up their bags and hopped on board, leaving them to follow behind.

They resumed their spots from the day before, and then the train was moving. Away from Hogsmeade. Hermione let her gaze linger on Sherlock and John as they prepared to occupy themselves for the ride back. Sherlock was unpacking a book to read while John was scrolling through his phone, a frown on his face as he deleted the failed pictures. It was so normal, as if the night before had never happened at all.

And perhaps that was for the best, Hermione thought. John and Sherlock's relationship was complicated enough without throwing her into the mix. Hell, there was no way that Mary would be okay with what happened… They'd need to forget it ever happened at all if they wanted to be able to move forward without regret and secrets holding them back. Merlin, she hated that it had to come to this...

"John…" Hermione started withdrawing her wand from the inside of her jumper sleeve. She bit down harshly on her lip as she turned, met her lover's eyes, and whispered, "Sherlock..." Her heart ached at what she knew she had to do, her conscious struggling to win out over what her heart and mind wanted. "There's something that I need to do… So that last night doesn't come between us, or the ones we all love…"

John was looking at her warily, his war torn eyes trained heavily on the wand she now held aloft. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed to understand what she was implying, his mysterious eyes sad but filled with resolve. He nodded at her once, his gaze flickering to John in a way that implied he would never agree to what she had planned. She took that warning to heart, biting back the words she'd planned on saying in order to save them from a fight that would break them apart. So, wetting her lips, Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated on her spell as she waved her wand in the correct pattern.

" _Obliviate_."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione would return from the loo with tearstained cheeks and both John and Sherlock would ask her what was wrong. Only, she would be forced to lie and blame it on the case, their one night in Hogsmeade a distant memory to no one but her...


End file.
